


Lay, Lady, Lay

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Community: seasonofkink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Wet & Messy, casual nonmonogamy, gender fluidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 11:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "No, see, post-coitally, " Poe says, "Youglow. I just stink."Finn and Poe go for another round. Some unexpected feelings make themselves known.





	Lay, Lady, Lay

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhzEsb2tNbI)  
> 

There is no practical way that Poe should be getting hard again. Hell, after that last session, he should probably be unconscious.

He's exhausted, limbs heavy and thoughts sluggish. The sweat is turning sticky and cold down his back and across his chest and behind his knees. Even his mouth aches from kissing. He should sleep. He needs to sleep.

But he's lying here and everything's so warm and close. Finn's rubbing his back and the rise of his ass slowly, absentmindedly, which is relaxing and also, simultaneously, very much not.

"Ugh," Poe says, getting a whiff from his armpit as he shifts around. "I'm gross. So gross."

"Me, too." Finn sounds as sleepy and hoarse and wrung-out as Poe feels. "Should clean up."

"You first." Blindly, he reaches over and pokes.

"You."

"Nah."

Finn's fingers dip into Poe's crack and stroke lightly. "Mmm."

"Yeah."

"At last," Finn says, "Something we agree on."

Right up against Finn's kiss, Poe makes a noise that's supposed to be a reply. The kiss goes slow and deep, thorough enough to re-light all the tingles and scrapes whose aches were just starting to subside. Poe's floating in his own skin.

"I'm so gross," he says again as they move around, draw closer, tip a little onto their sides.

Finn pinches Poe's ass. "I know."

"Hey."

Pushing a leg between Poe's, his cock twitching, Finn murmurs, "Right there with you."

"No, see, post-coitally, _you_ glow. I just stink."

Finn just shakes his head at that. Several times per conversation, Poe manages to say something dumb enough that Finn can't even work up a polite dismissal. Instead, he tightens his hand on Poe's ass and pulls him closer. His cock is firming against Poe's own, and his fingers keep dipping a little deeper into Poe's crack.

"You do!" Poe insists, on account of the aforementioned dumbness. He wriggles and hitches until he can get his hand on Finn's cock and stroke it. Looking down, he whispers, "Hey, gorgeous."

"You are so weird," Finn murmurs as his mouth moves down the side of Poe's neck.

"I'm very fond of him," Poe explains, as if this is brand-new information for them both. "He brings me _a lot_ of joy."

"Does he?" Finn nips at the base of Poe's throat a couple times. Poe shivers at the scrape of teeth and bares his throat for more. "I have nothing to do with that joy?"

"Idiot," Poe says flatly. The weight of Finn's cock in his hand is giving him _ideas_. Ridiculous, reckless, _ambitious_ ideas. "Hey, buddy! Can I blow you? I'm gonna blow you!"

He's a _genius_.

Finn shoves him lightly. "What part of 'need to clean up' escaped you?"

"Oh," Poe says. His gut plunges with disappointment. "Right, I forgot."

"You forgot already?" Finn circles two fingertips just over Poe's hole. "Sounds like I really need to step up my game."

"I forgot about _cleaning_ ," Poe says as calmly as he can. "Not about fucking. Never forget about that."

"Hmm," Finn says. Poe _knows_ that he's just teasing, drawing the moment out so Poe will squirm and start spluttering, but despite that certainty, Poe is about to squirm and splutter. "Maybe you need reminding?"

"Oh, yeah?" He's about to roll over onto his back, because who is he to turn down a freely-offered Finn-fucking? "Maybe I do."

"Up here," Finn says, and does some weird, slightly evil First-Order-wrestling move whereby he slips _under_ Poe and hauls him on top. His hand somehow never leaves Poe's ass. "There you are."

Poe's breathless, trying to get purchase on the damp, smelly linens twisted around them. He's _heavy_ , tired-but-horny, so tired that he's actually having trouble thinking of amusing banter. "Hey," he says faintly.

"Move around a little?" Finn's look is _intent_ : he knows what he wants, and he's expecting Poe to catch on sooner rather than later. He lifts his hips at one point, and Poe finally gets a clue. He slips down a little and gets their dicks lined up. It takes a lot of wriggling and grunting, not least because his coordination seems to have gotten fucked out of him, but he does it. Eventually. When he does, Finn gulps a little. "Touch us?"

"Yeah," Poe says. "I can do that."

It's about all he can do, but it's great. Both of them are splattered with come, and their cocks are hard but over-sensitive, so he works them gently, just enough to count.

Finn likes it, that much is obvious (and really all that matters). He's tipping back his head, digging fingers into Poe's skin, opening his mouth. All Poe can do is watch, watch and admire.

Finn pushes up on one elbow and slides wet fingers up Poe's crack. He's raw back there, so sensitive, that now Poe's the one trembling, head falling to rest on Finn's chest, sore mouth stretched open on a gasp.

"So wet," Finn murmurs.

Poe jerks and gasps. "Say that again. _Fuck_."

Finn's eyebrows go up but he complies. Rough-voiced and a little wonderingly, he says again, "You're so wet."

Here he is, old and stinky, creaking and needy, but there's another set of feelings superimposing themselves on him. Like someone else's memory is inhabiting him, stealing through his skin and across his nerves.

They're not exclusive, and he knows Finn's been exploring different things with different people. That's just a fact of life that Poe accepts and doesn't really think about one way or the other.

But now he's thinking about it. _Fuck_ , is he thinking about it, what Finn's like with a woman in bed. How wet she'd get for him, how good she'd make him feel. Does he eat her out? Fuck her on hands and knees or hold her close and thrust slow and deep? All of that, all night long?

All these questions are realities playing themselves out on Poe's body, his reactions and needs.

"Fuck me?" Poe asks. Finn opens his mouth, so Poe adds hurriedly, "Fingers are good, fingers are great, just —"

"Yeah," Finn says, smiling now, eyelids hooding his eyes. "Just about to, in fact."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." And Finn is, more than anything, a man of his word, so three fingers are plunging inside Poe now, twisting and thrusting, and Poe's back arches as he moans. "So wet."

He moans _harder_ , feels like every muscle and each sparking nerve are tightening and glowing. He's rubbing against Finn's groin, like he's got a clit, and it wants _friction_.

He wants more holes. He needs more to open and offer and _take_.

Finn kisses him, his ear and the side of his jaw before finding Poe's mouth. Poe nearly bites Finn's tongue, sucks it deep and relentless, as he grinds.

Finn snaps rigid and lets his head fall back, ripping another moan out of Poe's mouth, as his hips stutter and he comes against Poe's thigh and crotch. His fingers never stop spreading and probing, however; Poe's million different parts and selves are all glowing white-hot and he's about to fracture. He wants Finn's hand inside him, his dick, his tongue. He wants everything and for this to never end.

He's not sure who he'll be afterward, what will even be left. He will be stickier, sweatier, grosser, he knows that much. And, hopefully, if his luck keeps holding out, Finn will still be here.


End file.
